


A promise

by Redpandalavellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, POV Anders (Dragon Age), POV Hawke (Dragon Age), oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redpandalavellan/pseuds/Redpandalavellan
Summary: A very tiny (but hopefully growing) oneshot collection of Arin Hawke
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 11
Kudos: 8





	1. Can't help falling in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm Hawke taught Arin to play the piano as a child, and the first thing he does with his new fortune is to buy one to practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I'm gay and unoriginal please let me have this

Anders couldn't quite justify to himself why he was walking up the streets of Hightown so late at night.  
In all the time he'd lived in Kirkwall, he'd hardly ever spent much time up here. Too many nobles with too little to occupy their time except gossiping to the Guard - or worse the Templars - about the scruffy looking man they saw passing by their window.  
But in the months since Hawke had moved himself and his mother back into their old family estate, he suddenly kept finding reasons to pass by.  
It was a bad idea to keep indulging himself like this, to keep teasing by letting himself get so close. He knew it, or Justice knew it, it was hard to tell, but regardless of what his two minds thought, he still stood on the front doorstep, reaching for the knocker.

The door opened moments later to reveal a stocky, bearded dwarf stood on the threshold, but Anders found himself suddenly more distracted by the music that could now be heard quite clearly through the open door.

"Wise men say  
Only fools rush in  
But I can't help falling in love with you"

"Anders! I didn't expect to see you so late, I trust everything is alright?"  
His attention was forced back to the dwarf in front of him and he tried his best at a casual smile.  
"Yes, everything is fine. I'm sorry to call so late, I just found some of Hawke's things that he'd left in the clinic. Is he still awake?"  
Bohdan nodded cheerily.  
"Yes, he's just in the other room playing with his new piano. Hardly let's the thing rest since he got it, but it’s lovely music, of course. Lucky is whatever girl he's singing to, I'll tell you that."  
He seemed to realise the tangent he was falling down, and turned back to hold out a hand.  
"I'll make sure it gets back to him."

Anders stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, his courage almost failing him, before he laughed nervously.  
"Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you." He said, with his best approximation at a casual wave of his hand. "I'll just come in and give it to him myself."  
The dwarf looked at him strangely, and for a few terrible seconds his face began to heat up with embarrassment as he anticipated the door being shut in his face. But then Bohdan simply nodded with a smile, turning to invite Anders inside.

"Shall I stay?  
Would it be a sin  
If I can't help falling in love with you?"

He walked through the hallway and into the main room, losing himself in the sounds of Hawke's singing.  
His voice was warm, much like the house itself, a fire glittering in every grate as if trying so desperately to be inviting, to pull him in from the cold nights on the clinic floor in darktown.  
Arin had always been a musical person. From drinking songs in the Hanged Man to whistled tunes as they walked, but Anders had never heard him sing like this.  
A soft baritone, like honey in tea on the evenings they spent together, his voice flowing over the notes as the piano echoed throughout the house.  
He paused, his hand on the door left slightly ajar, unsure if he wanted to open it and risk disturbing him or simply stand and listen to him sing.

"Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be"

Conscious of Bohdan's eyes on his back, he eased open the door as gently as he could and stepped inside.  
Arin was seated on the landing, wearing nothing but his dressing gown as far as Anders could tell, ginger hair loose over his shoulders instead of in its normal neat plait, and a large grand piano right in front of him.  
Anders couldn't see his hands as they drifted over the keys, but he could see the way his body swayed to the notes as he produced them, eyes closed as he played purely from memory, his mind somewhere a thousand miles away with the music.  
He was beautiful.

"Take my hand,  
Take my whole life, too   
For I can't help falling in love with-"

Arin opened his eyes and met Anders' across the room, a sudden panic seizing his features as he abruptly stopped and flinched, moving so swiftly in his panic that he knocked the fallboard down over the keys with a resounding crash.  
"Ah- Anders!"  
He hastily cleared his throat, face already bright red with embarrassment as he adjusted the robe around his shoulders.  
"I didn't hear you come in."  
Anders should have apologised for the intrusion, quickly concluded his business and gone on his way. Somewhere in his mind he knew that. Instead he walked forward and smiled.

"I didn't know you could play the piano, or sing so well for that matter."  
Arin laughed a little as bashful people do, unwilling to acknowledge the compliment as he brushed some hair behind his ear.  
"My father taught me. There was a piano in the Chantry of one of the towns we lived in. He used to sneak in with me after dark, put his fingers over mine on the keys."  
His eyes seemed far away for a moment, returned back to that Chantry in the night. He looked happy.  
"The sisters must have known we were there, but nobody ever stopped us. It helped make the sneaking around and the secrecy something fun for once."

Anders could hear something bittersweet in his voice, the ache of his missed childhood, of being forced to grow up too soon to take care of his little sister.  
"It must have been hard... moving around so much."  
Arin only shrugged. He never would allow himself to complain out loud.  
"We got by. At least Bethany never had to see the inside of a Circle, and my father died a free man."  
Silence stretched between them, and Anders watched as Arin returned to staring steadfastly at the lacquered wood in front of him. He had still heard no word of his sister since they had left her with Stroud in the Deep Roads, and as time went on the both of them began to wonder if they had done the right thing after all.  
He climbed the small flight of stairs and considered the merits of another round of empty sympathies, but Arin spoke up again instead, lifting the fallboard once more to its proper position and running his fingers lightly over the keys.

"Mother and father used to sing it together sometimes, when we were young. She was the one who taught him to play, back when he used to sneak in and visit her at the estate. It had been so long since I'd heard it... I was almost afraid I wouldn't remember the tune."  
Arin rarely spoke of his father. Anders knew he was a mage, an apostate, that Leandra had ran away from her noble life to be with him, and that they'd barely scraped by ever since. He wondered if she ever regretted her decision.  
"It's a beautiful song... I suppose it must have been hard for him to ask her to leave all this behind."  
He glanced up at all the finery now adorning the mansion. New wallpaper, fine curtains, a chandelier hung near the ceiling. Portraits on the walls of noble ancestors looking down on them as they spoke. But as Anders looked back, Arin was only staring at him.

"He didn't have to ask. She followed her heart, and it led her to him. What else could she have wanted?"  
Anders looked down at the staff in his hand. The calluses on his palms where he gripped it too tightly, the chips and scratches in the wood from blocking templar blades.  
"Safety? Stability? A life on the run from the Templars can't have been what she imagined for herself."  
"What does that matter?" Arin asked, unrelenting. "She loved him, wanted to be with him, no matter the cost."  
He said those words now... but how could he mean them? He couldn't know the cost, not truly. Couldn't know the things he might be forced to give up, the life he might be condemning himself to.  
Anders knew.  
He should pull away, divert his energy back to his cause, to Justice, to protecting Arin from the things he didn't yet know would hurt him.  
But he knew he was never that strong.

"Well... I'm glad she did. It gave us you, afterall."  
Arin smiled at the ground for a moment, the blush fresh on his cheeks neatly matching the hue of his hair, before turning and offering an outstretched palm.  
"Come here."  
"What?" Anders replied in confusion, but already he was allowing himself to be pulled in by Arin's arms, staff put to one side as he was seated next to Arin on the small piano bench.  
He was so close Anders could smell the lilac conditioner he'd used in his hair, feel the warm pressure of his body by his side, arm to arm, thigh to thigh.  
The intimacy was enough to drive him insane, and Maker damn it all, if this was going to kill him he'd dig the grave himself. Just so long as Arin would lie there with him.

Arin placed his hands gently atop Anders' own, guiding his fingers to rest on the keys.  
"I'm going to teach you to play piano."


	2. A promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arin is worried about his husband, but sometimes love just isn't enough

He slowly picked his way through the streets of darktown, the mutterings and stares of refugees and lowlifes alike following him down into the dark. He'd made enemies down here in his time for certain, but also hoped he helped enough that he wouldn't be attacked on sight. He wasn't particularly worried though, he could handle himself well enough in a fight against the types of thugs that patrolled down here, and could almost guarantee he was better equipped.  
In any case, it was difficult for the people here not to know of his involvement with Anders. They might not ever see him sharing Arin's estate in hightown, but the number of times Arin had visited over the last 6 years and the open affection they shared made it plain to see. It was hard to argue with a wedding band, and he suspected few would risk angering the man they and their families often depended upon for their health.  
Anders had been worrying him lately. He seemed distant and reserved, always preoccupied by some other task, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where his mind was always settled. Arin wondered if it was Justice's doing, keeping him so focused on the plight of mages that he couldn't see daylight. He knew the both of them had meant well when they joined, but he hated to see Anders lose control of himself like he did when Justice became too much. Each time he worried the man he loved simply wouldn't return.  
He would be glad when Anders could complete the ritual to separate them. He had helped gather the ingredients (no matter how unpleasant it may have been) and was simply waiting for Anders to make whatever final preparations he needed, but he felt uncertain. Months had passed since he finished collecting the things Anders had asked for, and yet still nothing had happened. Each time he brought it up he was met with another excuse, another platitude, another deflection, but with his sparse knowledge of magic and Bethany now far from reach, he had little choice but to trust in Anders and what he said.

As he entered through the door of Anders' clinic, he saw him having a conversation with Varric.  
"I wanted you to have this." Anders said, holding a small object out towards the dwarf, hidden from Arins view.  
"What's that, a... pillow?" Varric replied with his confusion obvious, even if Arin couldn't see his expression.  
"Hand-embroidered by my mother." Anders confirmed. "The only thing of hers they let me keep when I went to the Circle."  
"Why in the name of Andraste would you give that to me?" Varric questioned, and Arin found himself agreeing as he hovered by the open door, his instincts telling him to stay silent and listen.  
"You've been a good friend, Varric."  
Something about his tone made Arin incredibly anxious.  
"Uh-uh." Varric shook his head and gestured with his arms to drive home the point. "You keep your pillow, Blondie. And may you have many more dreams of killing templars upon it."  
Varric turned and walked towards the door, passing Hawke on the way with a look that only made his anxiety rise.

The exchange sent a chill down Hawke's spine.  
He was reminded of an old man who lived near them in a small village in his youth, before Bethany's magic manifested itself and they had to begin their cycle of running from templars and the chantry.  
He lived alone in his house, his wife and children long dead, lost in the rebellion against Orlais. He was always kind to Arin though, offering him cakes and telling him stories whenever he stopped by, the closest thing Arin had to a grandparent.  
He'd gone to visit him one day in the hope of a new tale and was met with a teary smile he didn't quite understand. Much to Arin's delight he indeed told a new story, a story of a great battle to oust the wretched Orlesians from his home. He told of how his whole family had joined the rebellion, husband and wife and two sons. How they had marched from their homes, determined to liberate their land. How they had stood and fought shoulder to shoulder, his sons and wife using swords issued by the rebels, but he always preferred the hunting knife his own father had given him. He told of how his father had taught him how to fight with daggers as a young boy, before he was killed in the Fereldan occupation, and how satisfying it felt to use his same knife to free the land once more from their grasp, until suddenly in the thick of battle there was nothing except screams and blood. No glory to be seen. And how when the battle was over and he finally looked up, he was alone.  
It confused and upset Arin. They had won, they had beat the Orlesians and driven them from the land! He had fought valiantly and with honour, surely he should be a decorated hero! So why didn't the story end happily? Stories weren't supposed to end that way.  
The man had simply smiled with tears in his eyes and agreed, told him what a bright boy he was, so sweet and thoughtful, and then offered him a gift. Different from the usual sweets, he held out the dagger towards Arin. The whole length of it shined, clearly polished regularly and kept in much better condition than anything else in the mans home. A small lion was engraved on the handle, roaring its defiance.  
"The lion of Fereldan, used time and again to protect its home." He said, pressing the hilt into his palm. "Use it well, okay? Promise me."  
Arin grinned and nodded his promise, happily returning home with his prize clutched tightly in his hand, already planning how he would practice with the blade.  
When he returned to the house a few days later to report his progress, he found the old man swinging from the rafters.

"Anders?" He said tentatively, and the mage seemed to jump at the noise.  
"A-Arin." He turned, and his expression said nothing of the joy they normally expressed when they met. "I didn't expect to see you here."  
"I just thought I'd stop by on my way back from the keep. Are you alright?"  
Anders ignored the question and his concerned gaze, but instead quickly chose a new topic.  
"I'm glad you're here, actually. There is one more thing I must ask of you my love, and I can't tell you why. I must get inside the chantry, without being seen."  
He began, turning his back to Arin as he walked further to the back of the room, away from prying ears, and already a deep concern was congealing in Arins gut as he listened.  
"Will you talk to the grand cleric for me? Distract her long enough for me to do what must be done?"  
"What must be done?" Arin echoed apprehensively. "What do you have planned, Anders?"  
"You would not thank me if I told you." He replied, sidestepping the question as deftly as Arin would avoid a blade.  
"If you support freedom for mages, help me. That's all I can say."  
Arins brow knitted with apprehension, seeing the thin white threads of lies in his words and his actions for the first time. He had ignored it, pushed it aside, not wanting to think badly of his husband, not wanting to face the thought of what he might be planning. He reached for Anders' shoulder, imploring him to be honest with him.  
"What is it you don't want me to see?"  
"Do you believe in me, love?" He asked gently, caressing his arm in turn. "Do you believe mages deserve to live free of the templars grasp?"  
"Of course I-"  
Anders didn't even let him finish before pressing on with his case.  
"Then trust me now. I am doing only what is necessary."

"What is necessary...?"  
The words soured in his ears, the suspicions darkening in Arins mind and freezing into a hard anger, his patience wearing thin.  
"Was this ever about you and Justice?" He asked coldly, dropping his arms from their gentle position and forcing Anders to meet his eye. "Or have you lied this whole time?"  
"I lied." He admitted. "There is no potion. But what we have gathered will bring freedom for more than just me and Justice. It will help mages throughout Thedas. In the face of that, one lie means little."  
Arin seethed, trying his best not to let his anger get the better of him as he clenched and unclenched his fists by his side. Again and again those he loved, those he trusted, couldn't return the deed. They had left him in the fade, taken deals with demons at the slightest temptation rather than stand by his side. Isabela had taken the relic and ran, and even if she had returned with it the whole situation could have been avoided if she had only told him the truth from the start. And now Anders, the one man he loved and trusted above all others, now Anders was lying to him too.

"You lie to me so readily? I have done nothing but support you Anders, I love you. I thought you felt the same way. Why don't you trust me? Why can't you tell me the truth?"  
"I am taking a risk, I would not see you drawn into it." His voice was gentle at first, but soon his own anger seemed to overtake him as his words gained an edge.  
"But maybe your support of mages ends at talk. It's easier to support freedom if no one must die to achieve it. You cannot claim to love me, then turn on me now."  
Arin softened slightly, touching the feathers on his shoulder gently once more, his heart sinking as Anders turned his head away.  
"Of course I care for you Anders, but you're scaring me. This talk of sacrifice and revolution... I don't want to see you become a martyr."  
Arin kept watching his face, searching for the telltale blue streaks of light that showed justices presence. He wasn't sure what would be worse. That justice had found yet another foothold in his mind, or that he was doing all this by himself.  
But no matter how hard he looked, even with their heated talk of mages, justice made no appearance, and Anders only continued to ignore his gentle tone.  
"You cannot care for me and despise what I stand for. I am the cause of mages. There is nothing else inside me."  
"Nothing else?" Arin beseeched softly. "Anders you are the man I love. The man who uses his gifts to help the needy and asks for nothing in return. The man who coos at kittens and cracks terrible jokes. Don't let Justice steal all that away. You are more, you will always be more. I don't want to see you lose yourself to this."  
He remained steadfast, clenching his jaw and looking straight past Arins pleading face.  
"Will you aid us now? Or does your support stop at the chantry door?"  
"I'll help." Arin whispered, dropping his head in defeat. "Of course I'll help Anders, I would do anything for you."  
He seemed to swell with relief at that, smiling slightly and placing reassuring hands on the sides of Arins arms.  
"I promise, whatever happens, it's on my head. It will not come back on you."  
"It is both of our burdens." He intertwined their fingers, pressing palm to palm and listening with satisfaction as the gold rings clinked softly on contact. "That is the promise we made." He smiled down at Anders, and Anders smiled back, though the soft expression didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I want to tell you now, I love you. You've stood by me when I've given you every reason to turn away. Just remember, whatever happens, I wanted you to know that."  
Anders words twisted something deep within Arin. They were so sincere, so full of love, and he couldn't help but feel like Anders was saying goodbye.  
"Why are you talking like this?"  
Their arms dropped to their sides, fingers just barely grazing each other as they stood so close together and yet somehow so far apart.  
"He'll still be here you know, Justice, long after you and I are gone. It doesn't mean the same thing to a spirit, he'll just go back to the fade."  
It wasn't an answer, not really, but the tone of his voice, the way he avoided his eye - it told Arin enough.  
"Maker, I love you Anders. Please don't say these things, I can't bear to think of losing you."  
He pulled his husband close, arms wrapped possessively around him, taking comfort from the way he buried his face into Arins shoulder on instinct, the way his arms circled to place gentle pressure on his back.  
"You are the most important thing in my life, but some things matter more than my life, more than either of us. I'm sorry."  
Arins chest ached with every breath, a sinking anxiety that left a void in his gut, a black hole that threatened to consume him at the thought of being stranded alone once more.  
"Whatever you have to do, do it. Maker knows I could not stop you. But please Anders, I'm begging you, don't let it take you from me."  
His grip around Anders shoulders was tight, as if he could hold them together with sheer strength.  
"I told you I would break your heart." Anders said softly, his breath warm by Arins ear, and Arin could hear that he was on the edge of tears himself.  
"Just know it breaks mine to do it. I was hoping we'd find a better way but... Justice and Vengance are too intertwined. I can't tell one from the other."  
Arin tried to think of something to say. Something, anything, to make him listen. To make him stay. But Anders pulled back from his tight hold and met his eyes, as if he could put a lifetimes worth of love into a single gentle gaze.  
"You are the one shining light in my life." He said with a tearful smile, running a soft hand down the side of Arins face. "Never blame yourself for what will happen."  
Reluctantly Arin allowed him to retreat from the embrace. His arms lingered a moment, outstretched, as his husband stepped back.  
"Go to the chantry, talk to the grand cleric. I will join you when I'm done."

Arin did as he was asked, but when he went home that night, Anders didn't join him.  
It wasn't until he was awoken the next morning to a commotion outside the chantry that he finally began to understand why.


	3. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A four hands piece doesn't sound right when played by two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when renatacunhart gets me talking about piano music - blame her

The small town Chantry was quiet as he eased open the old wooden door. It creaked loudly in the relative silence, and for a moment Anders was nervous, but the building appeared empty.  
It was little more than a chapel, a statue of Andraste and a few lit candles, nothing valuable enough for Templars or even a lay Sister to stand guard through the night, but still this was dangerous.  
He couldn't afford to be seen, he knew that, and certainly not by a member of the Chantry. But then again, he didn't much care what happened to him these days.  
He saw his prize across the room and started forward.

He'd heard it as he passed during the day, walking aimlessly from unnamed town to unnamed town, the one thing that had stood out to him in a week of wandering.  
It shouldn't have mattered, he shouldn't have stayed, but somewhere inside him there were still memories he refused to forget.  
His fingers ran slowly over the uneven wood as he drew close, grained and rough. There was cold wax dripped down the side, long dried, and a hastily carved, youthful, declaration of love, two initials encircled by a rough heart. It resurrected memories that almost brought him to his knees.

Pulling forward the old bench, he sat down, lifting the fall board, letting his fingers grace lightly across the yellowing keys. His hands reflexively made the shapes he'd memorized so long ago, quiet songs echoing in his head.  
The battered piano groaned when he played a gentle chord, long since fallen out of tune, but it didn't matter, the sound of the music wasn't really the point.

"I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do ya?  
Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

His voice was hoarse as he began, and it forced him to silently wonder how long it had been since he last used it. But as the muscle memory kicked in and the notes became stronger, so did his words, the quiet whisper growing louder as he sunk deep into the music.

"Well, your faith was strong, but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya  
She tied you to the kitchen chair  
She broke your throne and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

He stumbled on a few of the notes, woefully out of practice in recent years. He hadn't had much time to play, and now he wished he'd made more. He wished he'd made more time for a lot of things.  
He felt like a child learning for the first time again, and he recalled what Arin had told him about how he learned to play. Sitting on his father's knee in a form of darkened prayer, their hands together on the stolen keys for precious minutes when they managed to sneak away.  
He found himself wondering if Arin had ever played on this one.

"Well, baby I've been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

If anyone was around to listen, Anders was in trouble, but he was past the point of caring about that now.  
He sang as he had back then, loud and in love as they'd learned it together, pressed close behind the piano in his house - Their house.  
Arin was always the better singer, but more than that, any hypothetical audience could easily recognise the missing piece.  
They played a piece designed for two; and without a partner he performed only half a song.  
It wasn't complete without him.

"Maybe there's a God above  
but all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
It's no complaint you hear tonight  
It's not some pilgrim who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a lonely Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

The letter weighed heavy in his pocket as his lip began to waver. He'd considered throwing it away, burning it up, anything to pretend it wasn't real.  
But still it remained folded next to his chest. He hadn't the strength to open it, to re-read those words, but somehow it felt like the last connection he had.  
His last connection to the man he loved. The man he lost.

"I did my best, it wasn't much  
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch  
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you  
And even though  
It all went wrong  
I'll stand before the Lord of Song  
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

He felt the tears running down his cheeks, and it was only as the notes began to falter that he realised his hands were shaking.  
He dropped the pretence, curling his fingers into fists as he sobbed into his hands, the last notes abruptly cut off and fading back into silence.

"Hallelujah, Hallelujah... Hallelujah..... Hallelujah....."


End file.
